Tag Archive | society

Being French

reasons-to-like-france-graphElo, me naam eez CT, ande 2 monts agoe I beecame French. Well 50% French in the eyes of the law and sub-French in the eyes of every 100% French person, but that sort of ruins the announcement, don’t you think?

Finally, 17 years after being born on French soil to American parents, I was awarded a brilliant piece of paper stating that I now had french citizenship. The whole ceremony took place in a dingy office on the 2nd floor of a dusty creaking building that specializes in transforming peoples’ lives, and was officiated by a weary looking middle-aged woman who looked like she could really use a trip to, well, anywhere. After verifying that I wasn’t a llama posing as a human just to benefit from french health care, she offered me a three page list of first names and asked me to pick one. Despite my longtime fantasy of being named Gertrude Cunégonde, I decided to stick to CT after my father shot me a threatening look, which he only barely pulled off, since I could tell he was about to lose a hard fought battle to hysterical laughter. The lady glared at us, pursed her lips when I told her I was keeping my American citizenship, shook our hands and wished us good day, wrapping up the event in the pomp with which it had been conducted (yes young pineapples, that is sarcasm). And voilà, French I am.

As a French person, I have learned several things essential to surviving in the society of baguettes and berets, which I thought I should share with you here, as I am a kind and generous soul:

#1: Never, ever let on that you are any part American
Apart from the rare Frenchman who appreciates his neighbors from across the pond for having supplied his people with Star Wars and liberation from the Nazis, the French hold Americans to the very lowest of standards. We see the United States as perverting our culture of fine cuisine with such abominations as pre-made frosting (I mean seriously, who can’t make the effort of beating up half a ton of butter and confectioner sugar themselves) and yellow cheese (oh the woe of a people not able to enjoy a cheese made from real bacteria and mold). Not to mention the endless stream of loud and obnoxious tourists who get drunk everyday and end up keeping the whole neighborhood awake at 4am with a slurred version of the Star Spangled Banner that sounds more like a tyrannosaurus rex wailing because its arms aren’t long enough to reach the steak that’s on the top shelf of the refridgerator than any kind of musical ditty. So when in doubt, if the conversation at a wine-tasting soirée turns to the land of guns and bacon, just whole-heartedly agree that every American should be tossed into the Seine River immediately upon arrival, for fear of ending up there yourself.

#2: Act superior
If they hold Americans to the very lowest of standards, the French hold themselves to the very highest. As an ancient civilization with a proud history of invading and being invaded, it is necessary to maintain dominance on the rest of the word, a task which falls to every commoner as his or her civil duty. The code of conduct is as follows. When walking down the street, stride briskly and keep your face completely neutral. When spoken to assume a slightly annoyed look and adjust your voice so as to have a condescending echo (nothing obvious enough to allow for a formal rebuke of course). Finally, be sure to always having something French on you, such as a baguette or a book by a great French novelist (to be handheld in plain view). This will inspire awe from foreigners, who will return home and spread the stereotypes that allow for an international French reverence, and notify other Frenchman that you entertain the same noble quest as they, and thus deserve to be treated with respect.

#3: Be patriotic
This goes hand in hand with reason number 2, but is absolutely primordial: you must be willing to fight for your country, lie for your country, sow, reap and die for your country (I think I should change my career path to motivational poet. Thoughts? Actually, it’s probably better if you don’t say anything at all, I see you sneering from a million miles away). If you are caught doing something dishonorable, say you’re from England, those bastards have tried invading us enough times to deserve a little retribution. Of course if you’re being filmed by a television crew for having saved 15 people from a burning building, no matter if you look like raccoon whose wife is dragging him to marriage counseling sessions that cost way too much for the meager salary you make as a trashcan spotter, make sure to yell that you’re French. It’s very important to the social well-being of the country that we be recognized as underdog heroes. Keeps us modest and bashful.

Now I realize that I’ve been rather unkind to the French in this post, and before any of my fellow compatriots descend upon me in a flurry of rage and cigarette smoke, I’d like to share the words I wrote in my letter to the mayor: “J’espère amener honneur à vous et aux institutions de ce pays dont je suis si fière d’être devenue la citoyenne”, which translates roughly to “I promise to try and not disgrace myself any more than I already have… but dawg I’m French now, and there ain’t nobody who can touch me” (very roughly).

Liberté, égalité, fraternité to all my French homies out there. I’m going to stop writing now, before I get any more ghetto.

Live long and prosper \V/
Yours sincerely,
The Mostly Confused Teenager.

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Plastic Surgery and Me

My nose has always been a problem for me. Ever since I was a little girl I’ve had this complex that dictates that my nose is simply not up to snuff [bad pun intended]. Then I heard about plastic surgery which could give me the nose I wanted, and hope rose from the dust. Unfortunately for me I did a little research on the subject and decided that I hated the idea of plastic surgery with all my might.

I came to realize that the idea of changing one’s self for no good reason is perfectly appalling. Now I do understand why you would get plastic surgery if you had a birth defect or had been in a horrific accident, as long as it significantly changes your quality of life and the reason is sufficiently valid to trump the extraordinary amount of money that must be dumped into the procedure. For example if you’re being bullied I would consider it a logical course of action, even if my personal beliefs don’t agree with the fact that you’re bowing down to the pressure of society.

HOWEVER, I was watching a television program yesterday on the life of plastic surgeons in Beverly Hills and was shocked and horrified by what I saw. Please explain to me what the point of a boob job is? It was sickening, but for some reason I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen or change the channel (it’s the same thing when I come upon Toddlers and Tiaras or Here Comes Honey Boo Boo). I guess that I would say that I judge having a procedure such as a liposuction, body contouring or a thigh lift (I know right?) as taking the easy way out.

Things like a facelift make no sense to me whatsoever. People get old, deal with it! Just because you have a couple wrinkles doesn’t mean that you’re not beautiful. In fact in some cases getting rid of all those laugh lines can make things look very much worse than they were before. Think about Cher, she looks just awful, and she’s had practically every kind of plastic surgery available! She hardly looks human anymore!

Ugh?

Ugh?

A lot of celebrities seem to have bought into the whole plastic surgery thing, like Megan Fox. But why? She’s a natural beauty, that was proven when she was voted into the 100 sexiest women several times by several different magazines. So why the transformation? What did she physically need that she didn’t have? (oh my that does sound wrong doesn’t it?) I just don’t understand, and it makes me both sad and amazed that someone would do something like this to themselves. It’s kind of as if she is the original Transformer (get it? get it? get it? no? *shakes head in resignation*)

I’ll just end by saying that since I have found out all this sh*t about plastic surgery, I am much more appreciative of my nose, which I now realize is not so bad after all.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: I sincerely apologize if I have offended anyone with today’s rant, however this if my opinion and I will stick by it. So in short I’m actually not sorry at all.

EDIT: After having written this I galloped (yes, you read right) off to ask my mom if she would ever consider having plastic surgery. I was shocked that she answered yes, and when she added that she might someday get a facelift I swooned and over-dramatically pretended to faint. She laughed at me and said that when I had wrinkles on my forehead I would understand too. Humpf, I think not!